Passion Scenario 1: The Heat of the Night
by Commander of Brontdor
Summary: I am choosing to write a series of "passion scenarios"; scenarios expressing Jane's passionate nature and sexuality . Enjoy scenario 1, gist of it is; Jane can't sleep because it's too hot, so she chooses to explore the darkness.


**Disclaimer: Jane Eyre is not mine; it was published in 1847 so there is no way it could have been anyway**

Had she known that climbing onto his warm limbs would be descending into a sizzling, all consuming blaze; Jane would have garnered every particle of self-control when she saw him in his present state and would have left him quietly, despite the wild, desire ridden protestations of her heart and body, but as she, late at night and quite by accident, entered his room to allow the sight of his naked body, gemmed with sweat and writhing helplessly with want, his scarlet duvet pooled around his feet drown her eyes, Jane experienced a billowing red surge of heat, a mysterious source of savage power rose from the untapped, long repressed passion within her, the passion that was forced into the stifling shackles of "femininity". Breathing heavily and silently, she walked around to the side of the bed where his beloved, heaving form lay, brushing the cool mahogany bed frame with her fingertips, until she stood close to the edge of the mattress.

As her eyes followed the sharp, stroking movements his clenched hand made on his body, the power within Jane rose, her body absorbing the strength of a wolf stalking through a dense forest for a weak, easy pray, until, melting into the air from Edward's full, red mouth the desperate, whispered words

"Jane, oh yes… Jane, oh Jane, Jane…"

His sweeping strokes grew faster, his neck arching back further and his spare hand grasping furious clutches of his ruffled sheets.

Jane gently brushed her hand across his cheek, letting her fingers be seduced into the wet heat of his mouth, and, as his tongue sucked gentle caresses and glided over their sensitive tips, she bent her head forward and whispered into his ear "Edward…"

His eyes shot open, alarm dimly registering through the haze of heat that bathed in them. Promptly, she placed a moist finger over his lips, pressing him back down onto the bed. Obediently but with yearning demand he surrendered to her touch as she swiftly climbed on top of him, gazing into the quivering blackness of his eyes on his upturned face. His arms softly circled her waist, pressing her firmly onto his hardness. Jane held his face in her palms, tilting his mouth further upward, she inched her lips through the hot black to his.

**Earlier:**

The night was heavy with a balmy air that sealed Jane's thinly clothed body, in an oppressive, prickling heat which would be only lightly punctured by a thin film of sweat. Infuriatingly trapped by her heavy duvet, she sprang from her bed, and, in an attempt to snatch air into her heated frame, paced the room with an irritated energy. After some speedy steps, forbidden and repressed images of her master, vivid and bright, fluttered across her imagination, the variety of half-murmured subconscious thoughts that seldom spoke from the deepest whirlpools of her mind, that read roughly and crudely like "What would he taste like?", "what would he sound like?". In the quiet late afternoons at Thornfield, as she waited for Mr Rochester to call her to his presence, she would slide into daydreams, and the back of her mind would wrap such questions about her ears in clandestine, hasty whispers.

Tonight, however, just as the flourishing darkness of these whispers began to arise, a sharp groan swept through the air, snapping them shut. Gradually, she crept towards it, fearful curiosity burning her every step. The corridor was empty, and shared the same sultry air as her bed chamber. Stepping out onto the carpeted hallway, she shot a glance left and right. During a quick scan of their dark paths that she heard a second, more stifled whimper, emanating from behind the stern oak of her master's door…

**Present**

The first contact of his flexible lips on hers made the magnificent beast of desire that had been prowling inside her body howl a growling scream throughout it, the whispers that occasionally strolled through her mind now rifled through her brain, bubbled in her blood, every soft, warm sensation of his mouth smouldered on her tongue as she slid it past his lips, plunging into his swirling, sensuous array of tastes, a dark, rich tobacco, a smooth hint of coffee and tinted sweetly with the suggestion of some intense black chocolate. His hot breath swam inside her mouth as he continued to moan her name, Jane felt his fingers spread out as he firmly grasped her leg, brushing her cotton nightgown up her thigh. Breaking their kiss, she grasped the hem of the thin dress and pierced Edward's eyes with an intent gaze as she slid the material up her skin, revealing inch by inch her smooth, naked body, steadily flooding with rigidity in the midst of her pleasure. As soon as her breasts were cupped by the crawling heat of the night air, Edward, groaning a heavy sigh, dipped his mouth to pull her erect nipples into his mouth.

Softly, he encircled the rigid point of flesh with his tongue, and with each massaging movement of his mouth, her calls of pleasure became sharper, higher as the flames of his fire rippled its scorching heat in her body, wave upon wave, threatening a swift and explosive burst into a tsunami. Suddenly bracing herself, Jane crushed her mouth to his shoulder to stifle her screams of pleasure as he parted her moist, pink folds with his hardness and began to sink it into her core.

Before consuming his body entirely, she curled her fingers fiercely into his cool black hair and tore his mouth away from her, pouring into the glittering seductiveness of his eyes

"I love you" she whispered

"Oh Jane…" he replied, his voice quivering with anticipation and tenderness, his torso heaving with each breath, he buried his hand in her hazel locks, circling strokes on her neck he moaned, his voice husky with emotion "Marry me, Jane".

Fleeting pictures bloomed wildly, vividly, basking in the ferocious plume of sensuality suffocating her heart, pictures of Edward being hers completely, of his face beautifully contorted in sexual euphoria, clutching fistfuls of silk sheets, making love in the backdrops of Vienna, Stuttgart, Lille, the taste of him, the smell of him, his mind, his heart, his constant conversation and companionship, hers to savour.

"Yes"

the word slipped out of her, rolled naturally off of her lips as she kissed the tears of happiness from Edward's closed eyes.

Romantic intensity made its inevitable return when his eyes slowly opened, the lids heavy with desire, the irises thick with a knowing, skilled mischief.

Jane, aching to take him fully, met his seducing gaze and slid herself entirely onto him.

Overwhelmed to be inside her, Edward arched his back as he surrendered to the softness of the mattress, his arms spread wide above him, he grasped the deep brown bedposts and thrust his movements inside her, his voice deep and masculine as he called her name, his fluids gushing, they reached a screaming climax

"Jane!"

"Jane!"

"Jane!"

They stilled their bodies, descending into their heated abyss of pleasure utterly as he filled her.

Edward rose to catch her falling body as she collapsed onto him in exhaustion; showering kisses on her face and neck as they cocooned themselves in his duvet, whispering fleetingly "I love you" past each others ears.

For the remainder of their nocturnal spell, Jane clutched him close to her, his head resting on her chest. She spread her fingers through his raven hair as he spoke soft whispers of what their honeymoon would be like, the trails around the world she would make with him, what they would do, describing with articulate detail how each sense would be satisfied, how he would make her happy.

Jane rejoiced as she talked with him, playfully teasing him on how he had no right to claim to be "_as hard and as tough as an India rubber ball_" when he was so prone to such fantasy and tenderness.

As he slept, Jane remained contemplative as she gently twisted his hair through her fingers, devoid of regret that she had surrendered to the heat of the night.

**For those who would claim that Jane has too much self-respect and dignity to do such a thing, I would like to make clear that this is an exploration of Jane's passionate inner nature, which would be (and was) stifled by Victorian morality. My aim is to give female sexuality a right to be heard and credited as just as powerful, normal and, yes, as dignified as any other part of her character and should deserve respect and mature speculation. It was believed that women felt no sexual feelings at all in Victorian times, to quote from a Victorian paper on sexuality: "what men feel habitually, women feel seldom"**

**P.S**

**Quote in italics obviously is reference to a direct quote from book, a self-description from Mr Rochester. **


End file.
